


Most Of The Information On School Textbooks Are False Because Teaching Isn’t What They Are Actually Used For

by Detavot



Category: Gintama
Genre: Character Analysis, Gen, Gintoki's state when first met Ototse, Post-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:22:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23065432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Detavot/pseuds/Detavot
Summary: Some people who've seen Hell can't cope with walking away from it. They instead burn themselves within because Hell is the only warmth offered to them.They never realize that by inviting Hell into them, they also give the Devil permission to whisper in their ear.
Relationships: Sakata Gintoki & Yoshida Shouyou
Comments: 3
Kudos: 54





	Most Of The Information On School Textbooks Are False Because Teaching Isn’t What They Are Actually Used For

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I know this fandom's dead. Yes, I misspelled Shouyou's name. Please feel free to hang me in the comments. 
> 
> Due to recent events, I have decided to write something with this type of topic. It seems... relatable.

Sakata Gintoki was a simple man. He didn't have his eyes on gold or blood nor did he have many hobbies-unless you counted obsessing over an unsuspecting weather reporter, which was something he considered a full-time job thank you very much. He didn't have desires anyone, including himself, would consider worthwhile, he didn't have many friends, and he didn't have a family. Did he even have friends anymore? He didn't know, seeing as the only person he’d consider a friend was in space and had most likely completely forgotten him. Maybe he’d forced himself to forget just to be able to live a good, happy life. Gintoki wouldn't blame him. Regardless, they wouldn't be seeing each other as long as Gintoki kept to himself, which was exactly what he planned to do. 

Ever since escaping prison and meeting Otose, Gintoki felt a bit more human than usual. He didn't let that feeling affect him. He’d let that hope consume him once, he’d let himself believe he’d been human so long ago, and where had that gotten him? Shattered hopes, broken bodies, unsalvageable relationships. No. He wasn't going to let anyone fool him ever again. The arrangement he had with Otose was simple, just like him. He was her guard dog. Nothing more than a simple untamed beast, something that was incapable of any thoughts or complex emotions. A beast’s only need was food, water, and a roof over its head; that was enough. That would be enough. Gintoki would return to his roots and, this time, he’d never let himself stray. 

Shouyo’s teachings stayed with him, as did his ghost. Sometimes he could see that damned man sitting on the couch Otose had given him, reading god-knows-what with a content smile that made Gintoki hurl the meager contents in his stomach. When he was finished throwing up, Gintoki went back to the couch to see that the ghost had disappeared. He tore the living room apart in order to find whatever book had been in the ghost’s hands, and found the little poorly crafted textbook he and Shouyo had created together a lifetime ago. 

That was it, that was the source. He opened the book with shaking hands. He could remember trying to imitate his teacher’s words and style. He could remember how foreign a brush had felt in his hands back then-too slender, too fragile, too little. He could remember how he had had trouble with using the flowing technique for writing; he’d always thrust and slashed and cut, he hadn't known how to be gentle. He remembered Shouyo using a sword to teach him how to write. He remembered how they had laughed when Gintoki had clumsily tripped on his own feet, how Shouyo and he had tried to bake a cake to celebrate when he’d finally gotten the hang of it. It was small and burnt and didn't taste good, but Gintoki had thought it was the best cake in the world. 

This was the source. 

He remembered how Takasugi and Katsura had teared up when Shouyo had given them this textbook. He remembered how he had blushed, felt so nervous when they started to go through it. Those two were better than the other students in their temple school, and Gintoki wasn't allowed to use Shouyo’s private teachings or his own fighting style on anyone other than Shouyo himself-he hadn't wanted to start a fight with them over his childish scrawls on the textbook. He hadn't wanted them to ridicule him for his writing. Unlike him, those two had had parents to teach them how to write-he didn't think he’d be able to handle being ridiculed by them over something like this. 

Takasugi and Katsura never noticed that Gintoki had helped to write that textbook. Gintoki felt both relieved and sad. Not that it mattered anymore, not that Katsura or Takasugi were ever going to see him again; he couldn't think of them as family anymore, could he? Not after everything. Not after his old habits and life struck hard and he forgot all about the humanity he’d worked so hard to achieve. 

This was the source. This was his one connection to the humanity that man had taught him, this was the source of the ghost. If he could get rid of this textbook, he could go back to how things were. He could go back to the crows, the bugs, the stench. Simple. It would all be so simple. He would go back to being just him. No name, no identity, no confusion. Simple. Why were his hands shaking? It was simple. The cause was so, so simple and the solution was even better. Why was his vision blurry? He didn't remember this place being that dusty. The textbook had some wet drops on it. When did that happen? The textbook was being crushed under his hands. _No, no, Gintoki,_ Shouyo said in his head. _You know brute strength can never defeat written words. I taught you better than this._

Gintoki wanted to scream but his throat wasn't working right. That was funny. An animal that can't roar, he knew he wouldn't last long. This textbook was the source. It was blocking his throat, his vision, his head. He needed to get rid of it. Survival was everything for an animal, and he wouldn't be able to survive with this textbook weighing him down. 

He didn't have a lighter in the house. Fuck. He didn't have a lighter. It didn't matter. He’d just throw this into the recycling bin, he knew Shouyo would’ve liked that. Let some poor bastard have the paper. Maybe they’d also use it to create their own textbook. Maybe they’d create their own temple school. Maybe they’d… Gintoki stopped that thought. That thought led to insanity. And when he got rid of this textbook, he wouldn't ever think. At all. He’d become an animal, free of Shouyo’s teachings and the personality taught to him. He’d be able to see anyone from his past on the street and not even blink an eye because animals like him don't have a good memory, he’d be able to continue on his way without ever thinking of anything or anyone other than his basic needs and Otose. 

He threw the textbook in the recycling bin as soon as he felt ready enough to go outside for the minute it took. 

It took just a minute. Nothing more. Just a minute, and the textbook was gone. He didn't know why his chest was hurting. He didn't know why he blacked out when he realized that the textbook was no longer in his hands. 

When he woke, Otose was hovering over him. She looked scared and concerned. It was natural for humans to feel that way when their pets collapsed for seemingly no reason, so Gintoki didn't comment on it. He just sat up and thanked her, he told her he was fine and that it was just the heatstroke. It was early spring, but Otose didn't say anything about it. Good. That meant she didn't care about his excuses as long as he was walking, that meant she didn't give a damn about him as a person. That was good. Otose would keep him in check until he finally got the hang of coming back. Then she'd die. Maybe because of old age, maybe because he’d kill her for money and food and shelter. Suddenly, he realized he wasn't going back to being an animal but was instead on the path of becoming a demon. Whatever. It didn't matter. He’d always been a demon one way or the other, so he supposed it was only natural for him to fall back into that routine. He felt only a grain of empathy for the woman before he washed that out of his system as well. 

Shouyo’s ghost was waiting for him in the room. He wasn't reading anything. 

Gintoki acted like he didn't see it. 

_“You are too cute to be a demon,”_ Shouyo said. Gintoki growled. That had always worked, both when he was a kid and when he was in the war. One growl, and everyone would take a step back. Even Takasugi. Even Katsura. Nothing about his growl was cute. Nothing about it was human or even mortal. But Shouyo’s ghost just smiled and stared at him. 

It continued to stare the rest of the day and the entire night. 

That was when the demon whose name evoked deep, primitive fear in people developed his own fear. A fear of ghosts. 


End file.
